


Noble Fears

by IronSpoon (OddColor)



Series: Noble Fears [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attacked, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Formatting Sucks, Gen, Night Terrors, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OddColor/pseuds/IronSpoon
Summary: “Do you want to hurt me?”You start to think that he isn’t going to answer you this time either.Then you hear a small, brittle, “No.”You smile, trying to soften the situation.“Then I’m already safer with you than I am with a majority of the people I interact with.”Placing a hand on his shoulder, you’re not entirely sure if it’s to comfort him or to get him to look at you again. Either way, it doesn’t seem to work.





	1. Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> My first posted fic. I'm sorry! Don't hate me.

After spending a night here and there at the tower, perhaps you’d begun to let your guard down. You knew who he was and what he was capable off. That part of him made no difference to you. But that was during his waking hours, when he had control over his actions. Not at night, when dreams and, more commonly, nightmares took over his mind. 

 

With pressure at your throat and weight on your chest you were unable to move your body away from the source.

Unable to take in air.

You tried moving your arms to reach something, anything, to defend yourself. You reach something on the bedside table with your finger tips, causing it to crash to the floor. 

The sound of breaking glass, your glass of water from earlier, was enough of a distraction that the grip on your neck lessened.  
Taking in a deep breath, you tried reaching for the table again, hoping to be able to actually grab something this time. 

The weight around you and on your chest shifted and the sound of splintering wood filled the room. 

Before you could figure out that the noise had something to do with the table no longer being next to the bed, the room was filled with light.

Loud noises. Voices? Yelling? No, not yelling. 

You could breath. You could move. Your body was still trying to make sense of what just happened but you somehow just instinctively knew. Bucky. 

 

“Can you move?” a voice asked you, “Are you able to stand up? We need to get some ice on that.”

Sam helped you up, gently holding one of your arms while putting his own arm around your waist to steady you as you both walked out of the room and towards the kitchen. 

Sitting down at the table, you didn’t look up or speak until the sudden chill of something frozen was draped over your shoulders. 

“Hold that there for a few minutes,” Sam mumbled, quieter than his usual self. 

Now aware of your surroundings, you look around the room.  
Not seeing anyone else you ask, “Where are they?” 

Sam pulled a chair out from the table and sat down before answering. “Pretty sure he headed outside. Steve went after him.” A head nod toward the patio door told you that Bucky didn’t take off into the city, just out of their apartment.

Once Sam let you remove the ice, you started towards the door that lead to the patio. 

Steve was leaning with his back against the railing while Bucky looked out over the city, both hands tightly gripping the ledge. Seeing you, Steve gave you a slight nod and made his way over. 

“Are you alright?” It was almost too quiet to hear, but you nodded and he continued on his way back indoors.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that Steve had even left, just continued peering out over the skyline. His grip growing tighter on the railing.

Walking up, you stand were Steve had been just moments before. Bucky’s grip suddenly lessened, as if he was just now realizing that he had been clinging so tightly to it.

After a minute, you know that he is intentionally avoiding looking at you. Afraid of what he might see.

Will there be hurt on your face or forgiveness? And which would be harder for him to live with. Then there would be the physical damage he had done. That he couldn’t forgive himself for. 

“Bucky.”

He looks down.

“Bucky, please, look at me.”

It was a second before he answered. 

“What did I do?” he asked quietly, but still refused to look in your direction.

You move closer and reach a hand out to his cheek, gently turning it to face you.

“Night terrors. That’s all it was.”

He finally meets your gaze and the look in his eyes nearly breaks you. How could the regret you were seeing there cause so much more pain than what your body just went through?

Looking down to the newly forming bruises that ran from your shoulders to your chest and neck, Bucky swallowed hard and turned away from you once more.

“Do you want to hurt me?” you ask, but he remains quiet.  
“Bucky!” your voice grows louder, “Do you want to hurt me?!”

You start to think that he isn’t going to answer you this time either.

Then you hear a small, brittle, “No.”

You smile, trying to soften the situation.  
“Then I’m already safer with you than I am with a majority of the people I interact with.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you’re not entirely sure if it’s to comfort him or to get him to look at you again. Either way, it doesn’t seem to work.

You move your hand to gently rub his back as you say, “Let’s go back inside.”

Even though he still won’t look at you, Bucky does at least acknowledge you without you needing to raise your voice again.

“Yeah. Just give me minute.”  
With that you walk back to the doorway, hugging your arms around yourself. You go to clean up whatever mess there was waiting for you back in the bedroom.

Immediately you pull up the mess of blankets in a feeble attempt to make the bed, shaking the bits of broken end table off as you go. After you gathered up most of the bigger pieces of what was once your glass, you hear someone behind you.

“Want any help?” Disappointment washes over you when hear Sam’s voice instead of Bucky’s.

Between the two of you, it takes just minutes to clean up. Sam picks your phone up from the ground and hands it to you. That’s when you see the large cracks across the screen. 

“Think S.H.I.E.L.D. will accept this as an excuse for needing a new phone?”

He lets out a laugh. “Blame it on a Super Soldier and they will.” 

“Thanks Sam” you tell him as he leaves.

 

Arranging pillows to keep as comfortable as possible, you’re thankful there weren’t any broken bones involved. Not that you hadn’t been through a few broken bones before, but it would have made getting back to sleep much more difficult than it already was.

 

When you wake up, you’re alone in the bed. In fact, you’re pretty sure Bucky never came back to bed at all.

You start to get up, slowing down when the pain and stiffness from your injuries give you no other choice. Nervous to even look in the mirror yourself, you grab a hooded sweatshirt from your bag and zip it up around you. Bucky didn’t need to start his morning with even more guilt than he already was. 

It was still early, but someone had already started the coffee maker. 

Sitting at the table where just hours ago Sam iced your shoulder, Steve was reading a file you recognized by the logo on the front. Promptly closing it once he noticed you walking over, he stands up and fills a new cup of coffee before handing it to you.

Gladly accepting it, you look over at the couch.

“Did he sleep there all night?” you ask, knowing the answer already. The man laying across the couch looked uncomfortable. But Bucky would rather fit himself awkwardly on the furniture than risk a continuation of that night’s events.

Steve shrugged, “He was outside most of the night. Not sure how much ‘sleep’ he actually allowed himself.”

“I won’t wake him then,” you say, “but I need to get to work.”

With that you drink as much of the coffee as quickly as you can, get ready, and head to work.


	2. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as swift as it came, the numbness is gone.   
> You allow the crushing pain in.

Working at S.H.I.E.L.D., you’ve come to expect that your day rarely goes as planned. That doesn’t mean you can’t still have somewhat of a plan and schedule, no matter how loosely you keep to it.

But when you end up making it home hours later than your usual time, all you can think about is crawling into bed and cursing that new tech that just ‘had to be looked over’ by your department.

 

Unsurprisingly, this same tech keeps you busy for the next few days, which is probably why you hadn’t really given it much thought that Bucky hadn’t returned either of your calls. 

 

While it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to go long periods without contact during missions or when on an assignment, you both made sure the other was aware of those. 

 

Assuming this lack of communication had something to do with your last night over there, you wanted to head to the tower and check on how he had been doing since then. You figured that speaking to Bucky in person would help ease some of the fears he may still have about what happened.

 

You go to unlock the door to your apartment, wanting to change out of your work clothes and into something that better covered up the bruising that still covered too much of your upper body.

While you weren’t self-conscious about it around your co-workers (who there hadn’t shown up with the odd or unexplainable wound at one point or another?) you weren’t about to make Bucky feel any more ashamed than he already was by showing up with his handiwork on display.

 

You barely have the door closed behind you when you notice the brown package sitting on your kitchen table.

With a set of your spare keys sitting on top.

 

The knots in your stomach telling you what you already knew. What you were going to find in the box.

Hesitantly, you grab the keys and set them gently down on the tabletop, as if moving too fast or making too much noise with them would cause the contents of the box to jump out all at once.

 

Inhale. 

You place your hand on the box and start to pry it open.

Exhale.

 

You begin taking the various objects out and setting them next to the keys.

Your shirt.  
Shorts.  
Some hair ties.  
Your sweatshirt.  
The charger to your cracked phone.

 

That’s when the numbness swepts over you.

 

Calmly you replace the contents in the box, pick it up, and walk to your bedroom. There you slide the box under your bed, pull back the covers and crawl into the dark comfort of the pillows and blankets. 

Just as swift as it came, the numbness is gone.   
You allow the crushing pain in. Allow the tears. You’re not entirely sure, but you might have screamed into the pillows a time or two. Or three.  
You must have fallen asleep, but the night was a blur. A long, gloomy blur.

 

Once you trust your legs to carry you any significant distance, you pull yourself out of bed and into the shower. While it was technically your day off, no one would think twice about you coming in after the crazy work week. 

So you head in at your usual time just to keep your mind busy. 

 

And it works.

 

For a while.

 

When thoughts of him begin to creep back in, you decide to increase your workload. Taking on another piece of tech.

And then another case file.

When this fails to flood your mind, you make the choice to volunteer for that assignment one of your superiors mentioned.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have given it a second thought, being labeled ‘Volunteer Only’, meaning even S.H.I.E.L.D. prefered not to force anyone to take this particular job.

But you needed to stay busy. What better way to stay busy than this?

And, yeah, that might be a bit of depression clawing its way in, causing you to forgo ‘rational thinking’.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback Chapter
> 
> (Cringe. I know.)

\---- 

You jumped when the file was dropped on the table in front of you. The sudden noise pulling your attention away from the screen you had been studying.

 

“Hmm? What’s this?” you ask the agent whose name you couldn’t place.

They were clearly higher up than those you usually dealt with, and therefore had never needed to remember a name.

 

“Tomorrow,” they began, “you’ll be inspecting a piece of equipment outside of this lab.”

 

Suddenly, you were uncomfortably aware of how empty the room was.  
How could your co-workers have been cleared out so effortlessly without you noticing?

 

Clearly sensing this realization, the agent in front of you clarified, “This is a sensitive matter and needs to be kept private. Any findings will be classified.” 

You nodded and began to look over the paperwork, wondering what could possibly need this much secrecy. 

 

...Avengers Tower… ...Barnes… ...extended stay in Wakanda… 

 

“Once you’re done there, immediately bring your report to my office.” The agent handed you a card with their office number on it, along with, thankfully, their name.  
Then they picked up the file and walked towards the lab doors, stopping just before pulling them open.  
“You’ll be briefed in the morning, on some of the more… finer details.” and then they were on their way.

 

The next morning you had nearly forgotten about the recent change to your workday. That was until Agent… Kim? King? Ugh, something with a ‘K’, greeted you just past security.

Wasting no time, they made it clear that this inspection was more of a courtesy, for both parties. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a job to do. 

The Avengers wanted to play nice.

Once clear of the crowd of co-workers, you were caught up on what exactly you’d be looking for, and what you’d be turning a blind eye to.

 

 

Walking out of the elevator once it reached the specified floor, you were immediately greeted by Mr. Stark himself. 

“Ah, you’re the reason S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled me out of my cave, aren’t you?”

Having previously worked for Stark Industries, and being fairly good at your job, Tony himself put in a good word for you when mentioning something about a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Good to see you again too. He’s this way.”

Stark led you to room that held better equipment than your lab. 

“I’m assuming that I’m not seeing any of this,” you motion to the machinery and computers, “either, right?”

Stark had a confused look on his face when he responded, “I don’t see anything?”

“Right.”

“I’ll send him in.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you begin to walk around the room, eyeing the tech that you knew would eventually make its way to your lab.

 

Captivated by the surroundings, you hadn’t noticed him walking in.

You had nearly made it completely around the room when you realized another person was now standing, not just in the same room, but mere inches away.

Breath caught in your throat and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. When the attempt to ask this man to sit down only resulted in near silent stutters, that heat spread to the rest of your face.

Relieved that he wasn’t making you feel any more uncomfortable than you already were about it, you walk over to a chair, giving you just enough time to collect yourself.

“Sit, please,” you exclaim, giving the backrest a soft pat.

Once seated, you pull another chair over and sit directly in front of him.  
“You must be Ja-”  
“Bucky,” the man cuts you off, “just Bucky.”

With a quick nod you begin going over what you’ll be needing to do. 

“Nothing too intrusive, though I do apologize in advance.” You continue.

He takes of his jacket and drapes it over one of the machines just behind him, allowing you to get your first real look at the subject of your report.

 

It was your love of science and technology that brought you to Stark industries years ago, and then into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s tech division. Both locations had given you ample exposure to the best and latest in technological advancements. 

But none of that could compare to anything that came out of Wakanda. 

Compare to this.

Your eyes lit up as the man in front of you stretched out his hand for you to start your inspection. 

Absolutely giddy with anticipation at what you’d discover, you began running your fingers over every ridge and micro-panel that made up the metallic prosthetic, taking mental notes along the way.

It wasn’t until you had made your way just above his wrist, your head slightly tilted to get a better look, that you brushed over a gold colored segment, causing the fingers on his upwards turns hand to twitch.

Your eyes quickly dart up to Bucky’s face, surprised to see a smirk on it. 

“I am so sorry. I just…” You tried to find a nice way of explaining that you had forgotten how this wasn’t just a piece of tech you were studying, but someone’s body.

His eyebrows lifted and the grin grew wider, as if Bucky knew you were struggling and not making any attempt to hide his own amusement.

 

Yeah, you weren’t going to be able to un-embarrass yourself with an explanation.

“Sorry.” You repeat, and go back to looking over his wrist. A little less enthusiastically. 

When you turn his hand over, you let out a sigh, “What I wouldn’t give for a day in Wakanda.”  
Having not said a word, other than to correct you on his name, you were caught off guard by his response.

“I could arrange that.”

Before you had a chance to say or do anything more than look surprised, Stark was at the doorway.

“You done poking and prodding this old man?” Stark asks.

“Yep. Ready to take an official look at that ‘workshop’ of yours.” You quip back, gathering up your things and stepping in Stark’s direction. “Which way is it again?”

“Get out of here Agent.” He leans in for a quick hug.

“Good to see you again too, Tony.” 

You turn and smile at Bucky, saying, “And thank you for putting up with this. It was nice meeting you.”


	4. The Mission

Feet making almost no sound walking across the metal grating that made up the floor.

 

You’re pretty sure the sound of your heart attempting to pound its way out of your chest is making more noise than anyone’s footsteps.

Managing your breathing had come easy, but in situations like this you just couldn’t get your heart rate down. 

 

Nearing your target, you reach into your pocket and grab a small circular device, keeping it in the palm of your hand.

 

Just mere steps away from the door, one of your teammates moves ahead of you and the other two, in order to secure the turn of the hall.

 

Kneeling down, you place the device in your hand onto the keypanel of the door. And wait.

Everything seemed to be taking longer than necessary, so you remind yourself that it would only take a matter of seconds for the keypad to unlock itself.

 

A hushed voice from around the corner was immediately followed by an abrupt rush of hot air.

One of the agents who had been standing to your side, took off in the direction of the member responsible for clearing the hall, while the one remaining touched your shoulder.

 

“How much longer?” she whispered, not taking her eyes off of the corner both of your other teammates had disappeared behind.

There wasn’t a chance to answer her.

With a high pitched roar, your senses were immediately overwhelmed.

 

Hoping to at least be able to make it past the door you had been working on, you tried to keep your ears covered.

Using the force of your entire body, you go to lean into the door, trusting what was left of your senses to be able to find the proper direction to ram your shoulder into.

 

A sharp, burning sensation began in your shoulder. But it was the wrong shoulder.

That was not the arm you should have been feeling pain in.

Burning pain was radiating from your shoulder and through the rest of your body. The feeling of fiery pinpricks filled your veins and now your senses were being clouded by something else entirely.

No longer able to differentiate between the metal grating of the floor and the smoother materials of the walls and door, you fall to you hands and knees.

Now the air around you seemed to be pulsing just as fast as your heart.

With a searing jolt, the pain to one side of your head intensified and the floor grew rapidly closer. 

 

 

As you struggled to open your eyes, a muffled wail greeted your ears. Your attempts at lifting your head prove to be almost at useless, with every minor shift causing mind numbing pain. 

You go to move your arms, legs, anything. 

That’s when the fire runs through your body once more. Scouring over and through your flesh.

Whether it was due to the excruciating pain or an outside force, darkness began to overcome you. But not before you noticed the screams were getting clearer, louder.

Just as the last bits of consciousness washed away, the yells stopped, and you realized where they were coming from all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough for the support. Means the world!


	5. Friend or Foe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're trying to make sense of your surroundings. With a severely injured face (that matches the rest of your body) and fading in and out of consciousness, you're only able to figure to do so much.

Finally, the air had stopped vibrating.

 

The screaming, _your screaming_ , had quieted.

 

Slicing darts of pain through your head were now dull aches. Dull aches that brought on waves of nausea whenever they decided to increase.

 

You were able to make out lights, shadows, shapes. 

 

Voices and people came and went, your mind and body putting too much energy in staying alive to tell you more than that. 

 

A voice. A person.  
Different voice?

Every person-shaped figure was impossible to distinguish from the next.

 

 

Eventually the fog in your head cleared enough that you could make out the sound of medical equipment. Along with the sterile smell, you’d let your mind rest on the thought of being in a hospital or medical ward of some sort.

Which, at first, was comforting.

 

But there had been no mention of an extraction planned for your last assignment. 

From what you could remember, which admittedly wasn’t too much, you never made it out.

 

_I’ve gone mad.  
They’ve tortured me, or ripped me apart, and this is how I’m handling it._

With that thought, guilt washes over you.

 

Knowing the news of what happened to you would eventually make it back to Avengers Tower, back to Bucky, was more than you could handle.

Getting hurt, even killed, would have been one thing. But when he found out that this was your fate… an all too familiar fate… what would happen to him then?

 

Something touched your hand and your instincts tell you to panic, tell you nothing good is going to come from letting them get ahold of any part of you. 

You snap your hand back and close to your body. Turning to face the offender, eyes still struggling to focus, you make out the shape of a person just before it goes out of focus again.

And then you’re not sure if anything was there at all. 

 

Day and night make about as much sense as the phantom figures you’ve begun seeing. 

Your hearing sharpens, making up for the frustratingly slow recovery of your eyesight.  
You were able to tell the nurses and doctors apart by their footsteps, learning their shifts. 

 

Almost convincing yourself that perhaps you _weren’t_ in enemy hands, you had begun to relax a bit about the state of your sanity. It wouldn’t have been out of character for S.H.I.E.L.D. to not tell your team the entire plan. 

 

Unfamiliar footsteps, at an irregular time, cause the unease to seep back in.

They didn’t belong to the usual staff making their rounds.

 

Swallowing hard when you catch a slow reflective gleam travel past you, all but positive that some sort of torment was close.

 

But it never came.

Footsteps move closer.

“You’re awake?” 

It was like a weight had lifted.  
You knew this voice! 

The head trauma caused you to have to think about what name went along with this voice.

“Buck, what are you doing over there if she’s awake?” they went on.

The person this voice belonged to leaned in and you were able to make out more of their face. A friend’s face.  
Now you couldn’t stop yourself from asking what you had wanted to know since you first got here.  
“Am I okay? Am I… safe?” It came out as a whisper.

“You’re safe. Yes, you’re safe.” 

“I can’t really see.” you explained.

“I’d be impressed if you could,” they laughed, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile, even if it was a little painful.  
“Swellings gone down, I can even notice a difference since the last time I came by,” he continued, “but it’s still pretty bad.”

“You’ve been here?”

“As soon as we heard. Bucky’s been practically camped out here, even before they’d let him in the room.”

“Steve.” you whisper, his name just coming to you.

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Your name. I… I remembered it.” trying to explain yourself, “Sorry.”

“We’ve all been knocked in the head a few times, don’t worry about it,” he assured, placing his hand on your arm.

 

Sam came by later that day. You were relieved when he told you who he was, following with, “Steve mentioned you were having trouble placing names. I won’t hold it against you for now, but mine had better be one of the first ones to stick with you.” 

 

A little nervous at what the answer would be, you eventually found the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at you.  
“So where’s Bucky? You mentioned that he had been coming by.”

The two men were quiet for a second. 

“I’m here.”

Startled by the voice that came from the far end of the room, you turned your head towards him.

Sam piped up, “Even I know that she can’t see you from over there. Maybe if you were a little closer, you’d be able to tell why. Sorry sweetheart, but your face is a mess.” 

The playfulness of his words proved to boost to your mood.

“Good. We match.” You retort.

He laughed, “There she is. She’s going to be fine.” before he and Steve excused themselves for a reason you didn’t catch. 

 

With Bucky still in the room, and not showing any signs of moving closer, you decide to start the conversation. 

“Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Before the words left your mouth, you had every intention of allowing him time to answer before your follow up. But once they begun, you couldn’t stop.

“Why haven’t you moved closer? They’ve said you’re here. All the time.” You can feel the tears forming, painful in your eyes.

With a lump in your throat and your words starting to waver you continue. “Why bother?” 

Your voice becoming shrill, “Why even bother going through the effort of coming down here?”

Still holding back the last bits of your emotions, you hear him shift, causing your next words to stop short of forming.

Bucky walks over to your side and sits in the chair Sam pulled over when he was there.

He was finally close enough that you could begin to make out the features on his face. 

You reach out to place your hand on his cheek. Caught off guard by the tear soaked skin that met your hand, your body starts to shake as you lose control of the last grip you had on your own heartache. 

Sobbing, you feel like a fool for believing this man was capable of doing anything with motivations other than your wellbeing. 

You go to reach for his hand, but he shifts just out of your limited reach, causing your crying to intensify.

Seeing this, Bucky takes the hand you had been reaching for and gently lays the smooth metal over the top of yours.

“You were scared,” he finally explains, “of me. When I tried to do this before, hold your hand, you pulled away. The look on your face…” His voice started to crack.

You want to explain how you weren’t sure where you were up until recently. How you were afraid of becoming some sort of science experiment. 

The last time you saw Bucky, before he pushed you away in an attempt to keep you safe, he had hurt you. Having avoided contact with you after that night, he had no real way of knowing how you felt about the incident.

Only what he had told himself. What he let himself believe.  
That he was a monster who had hurt you and you were afraid of him. Because that’s what happens when someone is attacked by monsters. Fear.

In the end, all you are able to mutter is, “I’ve never been afraid of you Bucky.”

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle with me, I beg of you!


End file.
